The Unforseen End
by KaiMeraPrince
Summary: The Eleventh Doctor is reminded that moving on isn't as easy as he wants to believe and that some things are terrible enough to rip through universes. Rose/10.5 Slight Rose/11 and 11/River.


**AN: **I was recently dragged into watching DW by a friend. And when I say 'recently' I mean 'seven days ago'. I've devoured the first four seasons already but I don't think I'll continue: reading the spoilers online… I'm sure River Song is possibly one of the greatest and most kick-ass women in the world and that her and The Doctor are amazing together. But my heart cannot handle anything that isn't my OTP. So this is just me venting that all out in a way that I hope doesn't bash River in any way. I really have nothing against her at all.

* * *

It came without a shred of warning.

One minute he'd been happily bouncing around the TARDIS and the next he was on the floor of the TARDIS, clutching his chest in utter surprise. For a moment The Doctor thought he was actually _bleeding _but that bewildered shock passed as he realized that it was only his red bowtie that he was seeing. And then the bewilderment returned; nothing had attacked him, so why did he hurt so much?

His Time Lord brain took another half half-second to figure out that it was not physical pain he was feeling. The gaping hole that seemed to be ripped in his chest was a metaphorical one. It wasn't his flesh that was ripped open, it was his soul. The realization, however, did not make the pain easier to deal with. He was in anguish – utter and uncontrollable anguish – and he literally had no idea why.

The emotions felt wrong as well. They felt too… alien. Too overwhelming. Too raw in all the wrong ways. They felt, he realized with slightly wide eyes, too human. He tried to move but found he could not, surprise washing over him once again and aiding to sooth the pain that was still ripping through him. And then he turned annoyed. He was The Doctor, master of time and space and so many records on different planets that it would drive a less intelligent species mad just thinking about it. Why, then, was he allowing some rubbish emotions that weren't even his to cripple him?

The Doctor tried to stand up but was only brought to his knees again. "I can barely breathe," he told the TARDIS with a bark of surprised laughter.

His ship sent back her own surprise and touch of concern. Plopping down on the ground with a grumble, The Doctor shut his eyes and retreated into his own mind, hoping to find the answer there. Suddenly he found himself in an expanse of pure white: a room with no beginning, no end, no boundaries. He would have found this incredibly cool had he not been alone in said place. The other figure was hunched over a way away from him, but there was no way he could not recognize him.

"What? But that's impossible! You're not attached to me any more… The barriers are all closed… I'm not imagining this – that I'm sure of. But then how the bloody hell did you get here? You-"

"She's dead," the other figure said, his voice choked and lifeless.

The Doctor froze instantly and everything around him and in him seemed to drop away. He didn't need to ask who 'she' was. There was only one person in any universe who would make his Metacrisis self so utterly destroyed that he'd be able to bridge The Void. He expected that if he was human his knees would have gone weak. He'd seen that sort of reaction before in his human companions. But never in her, he remembered suddenly. No matter how scared she'd been she'd always…

"How?" he choked out, staring at the face he'd once had and praying to gods he didn't believe in that it was all a lie.

The Metacrisis did not answer but instead curled up further. He was panting but not crying. There weren't tears painful enough for this.

"It wasn't supposed to end like this this time!" He couldn't blame the other for having a voice so choked with emotion. "I'm human! She wasn't supposed to leave me! We were supposed to grow old together and die together! That was the _whole point_! She was twenty-six… She wasn't supposed to leave me… She promised…"

Twenty-six. Oh, gods… He ran a hand through his hair and then scrubbed at his face uselessly. He didn't know what to do or how to act. How could he possibly have a reaction that was worthy of this? "I'm sorry," he settled after a while. He could tell his own voice was as hollow as the hole she'd ripped in him when she died. "I'm so sorry. I know-"

"Don't!"

Despair and heartache had molded into anger fierce enough to force his other self to his feet. His eyes were burning in a way that he remembered very well from his last incarnation. But even though he remembered, he could not understand.

"What? Of course I under-"

"No, you don't! Don't you dare look me in the eyes and tell me you understand!" the Metacrisis bellowed back, hands clenching into tight fists.

The Doctor felt anger rise up in him, too. "I _am you_, you idiot!"

"No, you're not. You may have been once but you're not any more."

He pulled once of his most impressive faces, wondering if it was the presence of Donna's DNA that made the Metacrisis so thick. "What, because I regenerated? You-"

"No! Because you married another woman! You remember her, you remember all she did for you and you _married another woman_."

The disgust present in the accusation cut him deeper than he'd expected. The truth was, that disgust was his buried so deep it was barely there. But when River was gone and not around to make him feel the good things, that disgust made itself heard. Niggling at him. Chewing at him. Pacified by his reasoning and his insistences but never really gone. It was for this reason that he could not answer his Metacrisis. Unfortunately, the other him took this as an invitation to attack.

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to convince her that I wasn't going to do that? That I wouldn't up and leave her for another? That out of all of them I would _never _leave her? After all the doubt that Sarah Jane instilled in her and after all the knockings she took because of Reinette… It took me years. _Years _to make _her _believe that she was good enough. Because she wouldn't see by herself. Not really. And after all that you go and-"

"Don't speak about things you don't know about!" The Doctor snapped back, finally as angry as his other self. "You have no idea who River is. What she's like! How she-"

"She's not Rose." And there, finally, was her name. It tore another hole through both of them. "She's not Rose and that's all that matters to me."

The Doctor wanted to say more, wanted to explain… But the tears had finally come to his other self, and he knew that any truth other than the one that stated his whole world had ended would never register.

"I lost people before. I lost my entire planet. My entire people. But it never felt like this."

"You weren't human then," he mumbled back, swallowing past the lump in his own throat. It was so hard feeling his own pain in a human's terms. He wondered how the Metacrisis dealt with it. His question was answered by the next words of his other.

"Make it stop! I want it to stop!"

The truth was, his other couldn't deal with it.

"I can't." His voice broke. "You're not really here. I can't do anything."

A pair of brown eyes that had once been his locked onto him. If he hadn't been feeling it within himself the pain that he saw there would have sent another blow to his soul. And with that the whiteness faded away and he was left staring at the wall of the TARDIS. He wanted to believe it was all a dream or a trap or a reaction to something but the burning inside of him knew that it was not. He stared at the wall and pretended he wasn't crying until another hole appeared in him. He actually felt it when the Metacrisis died; felt it when that part of him ceased to exist and eroded away in his soul.

He couldn't blame his other for his actions. And, later on, he found he could forgive himself for his next actions.

The TARDIS sprang to life under his touch and hurtled towards her next destination as he clung to his ship and stopped the tears. He stayed standing in that position for a while after the TARDIS landed, battling with himself until he could take it no longer.

The London that greeted him as he stepped out of the TARDIS' doors was peaceful by his standards; bustling with life and a cold breeze and vitality. Mutely he dragged himself to the estate he would be able to find blindfolded. He couldn't bring himself to climb the stairs. Not alone. The last time he'd climbed them alone was to follow the signal of the Living Plastic. Remembering seeing her face through the catflap… He choked out a half-laugh half-sob and settled himself on the dustbin as Mickey had once upon a time.

The day passed around him as he stared at nothing and remembered. It was just past three when the voice he knew he would never hear again cut through the stillness.

"Hey… you okay there, mate?"

He realized two things in that moment. One: he was still crying and hadn't noticed. Two: his brilliant, marvelous and extensive brain had forgotten just how warm her eyes looked when she was concerned about somebody.

"Yeah I… I lost somebody very close to me today."

Her face crumpled in that way that he remembered and she took a step closer, brushing her long hair out of her face. He had never been able to decide whether he liked it better long or short. She looked beautiful either way.

"I'm so sorry…"

He used to wonder at her stupidity all the times before when she'd put her arm around some person they barely knew to offer support. Sure, they'd mostly been human women in states of distress but they were _strangers _– why would she want to touch them like that? Now, when she reached out and squeezed his shoulder, he hated himself for ever thinking ill of her for it. The warmth of her hand could be felt through all of his clothing and it was all he could do not to grab her and hold her close. Bury his face in her hair. Feel her heart thud against his chest again. Smell her. Touch her. Hold her.

"She was twenty-six," he whispered, looking at her and imagining how she'd look at twenty-six. "She lived through so much…"

"They say the '76 children live a lot in a small space of time," she said, trying to comfort him even though she had no idea how.

"1976. Right. Because it's… 2002 now."

She smiled softly and nodded at him, still so concerned and so sympathetic. 2002 would make her sixteen. She wasn't even out of school yet. Hendricks hadn't happened yet. He wondered if she'd began to date Mickey or if there was some other guy she was chasing after now that he'd never heard of. He'd never wanted to ask her; Mickey the Idiot was bad enough.

The unmistakable voice of Jackie Tyler ripped through their moment, calling her daughter home. She grimaced and took a step away from him, still giving him that concerned look.

"Ya gonna be okay?"

He nodded at her and even managed a small smile. She smiled back, her eyes warm and promising. Then, with a wave, she turned on her heel and made her way home. In the second it took her to turn, his brain had already latched on to two ideas.

He could tell her not to go with a man called The Doctor. He could tell her not to go with him so that they'd never meet and he'd never have to feel all of this.

But that would mean he'd never get to feel all the good things, too. And, gods, were they _good_.

Or… He could take her with him now. Three years early. They could travel the stars together and she'd be in this universe forever and she'd never die and he could find a way to cheat everything….

He stood up and opened his mouth to call after her. A car alarm went off right behind him, causing his fantasy to shatter. He spun around to find that the offending wake-up call was an old, beaten van with pictures painted on its sides by unruly kids. The biggest one on the side facing him was the head of a wolf.

"Bad Wolf," he whispered to himself, looking at the picture and understanding.

When he turned around, Rose was gone. Slowly, he left her behind him and returned to the TARDIS. Then, wiping the last of his tears, he returned to his present.


End file.
